


Budgies

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cousin Incest, Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Maedhros is playful in the mornings, Finrod’s sunny, and Fingon just wants to sleep.





	Budgies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ephers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephers/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for ephe’s “#17 Pecking for the finwion firsts” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/163120603835/prompt-list-4).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Silmarillion or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

They all have different duties, even though they each command a wealth of servants, but Nelyafinwë’s chief concern is just that they’re all _safe_. Neither of his lovers is shy enough to confine to only his rooms, and when Findaráto rises in the morning, he stretches his long arms above his head, yawns in something like a song, climbs from their bed and murmurs, “I think I will fetch something to eat.” And though Nelyafinwë lets out an aggravated sigh, Findaráto only promises, “I will be careful,” and kisses Nelyafinwë’s cheek with a smile. He’s too pleasant to understand what Nelyafinwë’s father will do if he ever caught Findaráto traipsing about his eldest son’s room, let alone the other lover still buried in Nelyafinwë’s bed. 

Findekáno sleeps right through Findaráto’s departure, and Nelyafinwë rolls over to snuggle close to him. Both of Nelyafinwë’s _Fin_ s make for wondrous pillows, but Findekáno’s just a little bit _warmer_. Findaráto is soft and light, and Findekáno is broad and sturdy. Both have their merits. Nelyafinwë likes it best when he’s crushed between them. 

The better choice would probably be to trail after Findaráto, pull any servants aside that might witness it and plead with them to hold their tongues, but most will likely do so just to avoid his father’s wrath. And Findaráto can talk himself into most people’s good graces—the chefs already love him. The cleaning staff loves him. _Nelyafinwë_ loves him. And Nelyafinwë likes the way Findekáno looks, stretched out across his white sheets under the bright glow of the early sun. 

Nelyafinwë presses his first kiss against Findekáno’s smooth forehead, then brushes back a few black strands to clear room for another. The next kiss comes to Findekáno’s temple, then the crook of his ear, and Nelyafinwë can’t stop himself from nibbling at the tip. 

Findekáno grunts beneath him, stirring with a long exhale, and Nelyafinwë shifts back to kiss Findekáno squarely on the nose.

Refusing to open his eyes, Findekáno grumbles, “Be still, Nelyo.” It’s no surprise he can guess his lover even without the view. One arm detangles from beneath the cream-coloured blankets to shove at Nelyafinwë’s shoulder, but Nelyafinwë only grins and leans over it, littering Findekáno’s face in more kisses. Findekáno squawks, “Stop pecking at me like some over-eager bird!”

“But I am a feral hawk,” Nelyafinwë purrs, now making a point of licking Findekáno’s neck. “I cannot help my nature.”

Though there’s an indulgent grin on Findekáno’s tired features, he snorts, “More like an irritating swallow.” And he finally peeks one eye open, piercing Nelyafinwë with it, as if that headed gaze could ever chill his interest. The choice of bird combined with Findekáno’s morning preferences towards pleasure aren’t lost on Nelyafinwë. He nuzzles right into Findekáno’s face, seeking Findekáno’s lips. 

Findekáno affords him a single kiss, then cries as the door creaks open again, “Ah, perfect—my gentle dove is here to save me!”

Nelyafinwë doesn’t need to look back to know that Findaráto’s returned to them, likely full of cream puffs or some other frail pastry that only he could keep off his figure. The door’s pressed shut again, and Findaráto’s pretty voice returns, “Since when does the mighty eagle need saving?”

“Since its attacker is a little bushtit too cute to swat away,” Findekáno answers, to which Nelyafinwë pauses long enough to scoff.

“Bushtit now, am I? I am the tallest here!”

Findekáno concedes, “In stature, perhaps, but clearly not in nobility.”

Nelyafinwë dons a mock-affronted look, only to dive in and double his efforts, deliberately licking a lewd trail all along Findekáno’s face and biting hard into his jaw. Findekáno finally indulges in a languid groan, body twisting beneath the blankets and Nelyafinwë’s reaching limbs. He’s already bare, as they all were before Findaráto donned a quick pair of night robes to slip away to the kitchens. Nelyafinwë can already hear them coming off again, the silken fabric falling to the floor. 

The bed creaks with new weight, and Findaráto offers with a martyr’s sigh, “Very well. I will weather the brunt of it if I must.” And Nelyafinwë, playing along, immediately abandons Findekáno, turning over to face Findaráto instead. 

Findaráto sidles up beside him, thrusts one bare leg between his naked thighs, and threads long fingers into his copper hair. Nelyafinwë scoops Findaráto in for a proper kiss and tugs those golden locks right back—for all of Findaráto’s delicate charm, he can take just as much hair-pulling and rough play as Findekáno can. 

Findekáno lets out an over-dramatic sigh of relief. But Nelyafinwë isn’t at all surprised to soon feel Findekáno’s arms wrapping around him, spooning up close while Findekáno drifts back to sleep. And Nelyafinwë pours his love into Findaráto’s gorgeous body while the three of them bask together in the morning sun.


End file.
